


hold this body down

by ghostscissoring (scissorghost)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twilight Fusion, Bruises, Jealousy, Knotting, M/M, Manhandling, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Tenderness, Vampires, Werewolves, based entirely off the tent scene from eclipse, but like if they were hornier and less emotionally inept, mind reading but make it sexy, not TECHNICALLY a/b/o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27003178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scissorghost/pseuds/ghostscissoring
Summary: Despite all of the tension and the outright animosity between them, there’s something undoubtedly nice about being in the same place as Minghao and Seokmin, his two favorite people in the world. Some hidden space in Mingyu’s chest is thrumming with energy at their proximity to him. To each other.The conversation they had earlier, when Seokmin finally shouldered his way into the dim light of their tent and demanded that Mingyu use him as a personal furnace instead of freezing to death at the top of Bukhansan, went much better than Mingyu expected. Minghao had been snippy, his tone condescending the way it often was with Seokmin, but there was something in his eyes, the way he was watching the both of them, not just Mingyu, that made him really sit up and take notice.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Seokmin | DK/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 22
Kudos: 115





	hold this body down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dygonilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dygonilly/gifts).



> HAPPY KIM DAY 2020!!! kim, you're the best, and you deserve some absurd twilight-themed 97z porn, and i am here to deliver it to you 
> 
> if you haven't actually read twilight (l o l) it might be a little confusing, but i feel like you'll be able to get the gist of it xoxo

🐺🧛

Despite all of the tension and the outright animosity between them, there’s something undoubtedly _nice_ about being in the same place as Minghao and Seokmin, his two favorite people in the world. Some hidden space in Mingyu’s chest is thrumming with energy at their proximity to him. To each other.

The conversation they had earlier, when Seokmin finally shouldered his way into the dim light of their tent and demanded that Mingyu use him as a personal furnace instead of freezing to death at the top of Bukhansan, went much better than Mingyu expected. Minghao had been snippy, his tone condescending the way it often was with Seokmin, but there was something in his eyes, the way he was watching the both of them, not just Mingyu, that made him really sit up and take notice.

He tried to stay awake, to encourage his boys to talk to each other, but after hours of nothing but numbing cold, the warmth of Seokmin’s skin lulled him to sleep.

Mingyu dreamt, something aimless and colorful. Splashes of vibrant greens and oranges, colors moving in slow motion around him. Everything felt heavy and slow, like he was trying to move through the depths of the ocean.

Everything was calm, steady.

Quiet.

Until--

“Please!” Minghao hisses. “Do you mind?”

“What?” Seokmin whispers back, his tone surprised.

“Do you think you could attempt to control your thoughts?” Minghao’s low whisper is furious.

“No one said you had to listen,” Seokmin mutters, defiant, yet still embarrassed. “Get out of my head.”

“I wish I could. You have no idea how loud your little fantasies are. It’s like you’re shouting them at me.”

“I’ll try to keep it down,” Seokmin whispers sarcastically. There’s a brief moment of silence.

“Yes,” Minghao answers an unspoken thought in a murmur so low Mingyu barely makes it out. “I’m jealous of that, too.”

“I figured it was like that,” Seokmin whispers smugly. “Sort of evens the playing field out a little, doesn’t it?”

“Loving him isn’t a game, mutt,” Minghao hisses. It sends a shiver through Mingyu, to hear Minghao sound so fierce. Mingyu can tell that Seokmin is pushing Minghao’s buttons on purpose, and he knows just as well that Minghao knows it too. He was never good at backing down from a fight, though. Especially if Mingyu is one of the stakes involved.

“You know, he still hasn’t made a decision,” Seokmin says. “You left him once, you could do it again.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“You think that matters?” Mingyu wishes more than anything that he could see Seokmin’s face.

After Mingyu’s disastrous twenty-first birthday party Minghao had left like a thief in the night and Mingyu stumbled through the motions of living in his wake, barely keeping his head above water. It was Seokmin who brought him out of it, Seokmin who would find just the right thing to say to make Mingyu crack a smile, who would whine and beg and plead for Mingyu to go to a scary movie with him because he couldn’t handle going alone but he _really_ wanted to see this one.

Seokmin brought warmth and sunlight and loud, hiccuping laughter back into Mingyu’s life, and he could feel himself slowly, gradually, starting to fall in love.

And then Minghao came back.

“I think it matters more than you know,” Minghao answers finally. “I’m sorry I thought I had to leave. I was just trying to protect him.”

“Yeah well, all you did was hurt him. I could do so many things with him that you can’t. I could make him feel so good, and you can’t. At least, not without hurting him more.”

“Go to sleep, Seokmin,” Minghao murmurs. “You’re starting to get on my nerves.”

“I think I will. I’m really very comfortable.”

Minghao doesn’t answer.

Mingyu is too far gone to ask them to stop talking about him like he isn’t there. The conversation was so dreamlike anyway, wispy and blurred around the edges like a developing polaroid. He couldn’t be sure if he was really awake or if he was stuck in a fantasy, one that he’s been getting lost in more and more lately.

A fantasy of having it all, having them both. Mingyu’s never been good at choosing sides.

And then Minghao huffs out another breath, loud enough to be heard even over the howling wind while Seokmin’s palm presses gently against Mingyu’s sternum, holding their bodies even closer together, and Mingyu knows he’s not dreaming after all.

“Oh,” Minghao says, after a moment of tense silence. “Oh, Seokmin, that’s interesting.”

“Fuck you,” Seokmin spits out, quiet. Probably trying not to wake Mingyu. “I told you to get out of my head.”

“And I told you it doesn’t work that way, but you still can’t stop thinking about--”

“Please,” Seokmin cuts in, and Mingyu almost turns around right then at the way he sounds broken open, cracked down the middle. He wants to take Seokmin’s face in his palms and smooth away the worry from his brow, trace his fingers along the line of his tensed jaw, press a soft kiss to the slant of his nose.

But as impatient and unaware as Mingyu can be sometimes, even he can tell that they’re on the cusp of something, Seokmin and Minghao. So he keeps his breaths slow and deep, his eyes squeezed closed, reveling in the comforting warmth of Seokmin’s body but not giving way to the call of sleep.

“Huh. I’ve never...I’ve never considered something like that before.”

“Does that mean you’re considering it now?” Seokmin asks. Still quiet, but there’s something in his tone that makes Mingyu shiver.

“It’s not up to me,” Minghao says, firm.

Seokmin huffs a laugh, warm breath ruffling Mingyu’s hair. “Well, what do you want to do? Wait until Mingyu wakes up and then see if he’d be down for a weird threesome?”

“Yes,” Mingyu blurts immediately, unthinkingly, reaching one arm out into the chill air to grasp at Minghao’s icy hand. His fingers are so cold it makes Mingyu wince, but he holds on anyway.

“Ah, Mingyu-yah,” Seokmin chokes out, voice pitched higher than usual. “How long have you been awake for?”

“Long enough,” Mingyu says gently. He doesn’t want to scare Seokmin off, not now. Not when he has everything he wants at his fingertips, everything he aches for there for the taking.

Seokmin is still behind Mingyu, still and quiet. Then, “You knew,” he sighs out, not accusatory so much as resigned. He isn’t talking to Mingyu.

“Yes,” Minghao says, slipping his fingers out of Mingyu’s grasp. Mingyu wants to hold on, wants to pull Minghao down so that they can all lay together, Mingyu’s sun on one side and his heart on the other.

“You knew he was awake but you didn’t stop me.”

“Minghao might hide it better,” Mingyu interrupts, “but he can be a fucking pussy sometimes.”

“Mingyu,” Minghao admonishes, sharp. Well, maybe to others it would seem that way, but Mingyu had figured out long ago that all Minghao’s weapons were dulled when it came to him.

“Whatever, that’s beside the point anyway. You two were talking about me behind my back,” Mingyu whines, pouting up at Minghao’s lithe form. He rolls his eyes, but Mingyu catches the way his lips twitch, trying to tamp down on his smile. Mingyu wriggles around in Seokmin’s hold, not enough to break out of the cage of his arms but just enough to push their chests together and see his face.

He looks scared.

“Oh, Seokminnie,” Mingyu whispers, heart aching like an open wound in his chest. For all of his bluster, all of his hot-headed confidence, Seokmin is still so new to love. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like this is your last chance,” Minghao cuts in. Mingyu flails one hand behind him emphatically, silently encouraging Minghao to shut the fuck up.

“Isn’t it?”

“No, no, no baby, of course it’s not,” Mingyu coos, finally giving in to the desire to brush Seokmin’s hair out of his eyes, rubbing one thumb gently against the apple of his cheek. His skin is so hot in comparison to Minghao’s that Mingyu’s fingers burn.

It feels like a victory.

“I don’t understand,” Seokmin whispers, breath billowing out between them like dragon's breath. Mingyu wants to lean in and take it into his mouth, inhale until his lungs are so full he aches from it.

“If this is something that Mingyu wants,” Minghao starts, making his way slowly to the foot of the sleeping bag so that they can both see him, “then I think I’d be willing to share.”

“You think?” Mingyu giggles, rolling his eyes.

When Mingyu glances back at Seokmin, he looks a little confused, a little worried.

A little hopeful.

“Are you fucking with me?”

“I thought you would be the ones fucking me,” Mingyu pouts. He feels his stomach clench at the way Seokmin is staring at him, remembering abruptly how closely they’re pressed together, two bodies in one grave.

“I will if you want me to Mingyu-yah,” Seokmin says. “You know I’d do anything for you. You know you just have to ask.”

The weight of Seokmin’s regard is heavier than stone, heavier than gravity. It rests on Mingyu’s shoulders awkwardly, but he thinks he could get used to it. He thinks he’d like to.

“We’ve talked about it before, you know,” Minghao says, startling Mingyu out of his own thoughts. “What you’d be like, if we ever invited you into our bed.”

Seokmin looks surprised, but it melts into a pleased smile in seconds. “So you lied, before. You have considered it.”

“Briefly. But I had assumed--incorrectly, it would seem--that you would have no interest if I was included in the equation.”

“You sure make a lot of wrong assumptions for someone who can read minds.”

Mingyu giggles, partially because Seokmin is absolutely right, and partially because, well, it’s just so unbelievable that this is actually happening. Minghao was right--they have talked about it before, because Mingyu is a little bit of an exhibitionist, and also because Minghao feels guilty for not being able to...satisfy Mingyu fully, sometimes.

They’ve kissed, until Mingyu’s mouth was numb and swollen and his heart was racing.

They’ve sat for hours, Mingyu perched in Minghao’s lap, rubbing himself along the firmness of Minghao’s thigh until it got to be too much and Minghao accidentally threw him off the bed before he could make even more of a mess in his shorts.

They’ve been in the same room as Mingyu brought himself off, fucking his hips back weakly onto one of his dildos suction cupped to the wall as Minghao watched him from across the room, wide hands clenching so tightly onto the armrests of the chair he was sitting ramrod straight in that they splintered, and told Mingyu with a voice gone raspy how good he looked. How good he was being. He told Mingyu what to do, when to slow down, when to shove the toy in a little harder, eyes bright and focused on Mingyu until he came gasping and sweaty, stars in his eyes and an icy hand brushing his bangs gently back from his forehead.

Mingyu loves everything they’ve done together, but he’s always been greedy. He’s always wanted more than he should, with a fierceness that gnaws at his belly until he gives in and takes his fill.

“I apologize for the misunderstanding,” Minghao says to Seokmin, dipping into a slight bow. Seokmin looks so delighted by it that he laughs loud and warm, raindrops on sun-heated pavement.

“I thought you were going to take him away,” Seokmin says. His mouth is curved in a smile but his eyes are serious. He holds Mingyu a little tighter.

“I wanted to.”

“But _I_ wouldn’t let him,” Mingyu cuts in, nudging his nose into Seokmin’s cheek, pressing a kiss there when he stills at the touch. “Everything’s basically handled with the Volturi anyway--Jun-ssi just wanted to make sure I would be turned eventually, and I will be.”

“I take it I don’t get a say in that?” Seokmin asks.

Mingyu pulls away just enough to look Seokmin in the eye. His regard is still a heavy weight, but Mingyu knows that he can accommodate it, in time. “No, you don’t. And neither does he,” he says, tilting his head towards Minghao.

The look that they exchange would make Mingyu nervous if he didn’t trust them both so much. As it is, it makes something low in his gut unfurl like kindling and start to burn.

“Are you guys talking about me again?” Mingyu finally asks, after an interminable few seconds where Minghao and Seokmin are clearly having a full, silent conversation without him.

Seokmin blinks and grins sheepishly, and Mingyu narrows his eyes.

“You are!” Mingyu gasps, accusatory. “You’re ignoring me _and_ talking shit about me, this is criminal.”

“Trust me baobei, you’ll be benefiting,” Minghao murmurs as he drops down behind Mingyu, one palm resting over the sleeping bag at his side, the other tipping his head up to take his lips in a shivery, indulgent kiss.

Minghao’s mouth is cold, of course, but there’s heat there too in the way he drags at Mingyu’s bottom lip with deceptively sharp teeth. Kissing Minghao is always overwhelming, all-consuming, but this time Mingyu knows that Seokmin is watching, that Seokmin is waiting his turn, and _oh_ , that makes him burn even hotter.

He lets Minghao take his time, fuck his tongue into Mingyu’s mouth like a promise until his lungs ache and he gasps for air.

He whines when Minghao pulls away but Seokmin is there before Mingyu can look for him, closing his eyes and letting out another involuntary little noise at the heat of Seokmin’s lips after the chill of Minghao’s. His mouth already feels raw and sensitive. He knows it will only get worse.

When Seokmin pulls away Mingyu chases after him, tracing the seam of his lips with his tongue because he knows Minghao likes it, figures that Seokmin will too. His eyes flutter open and both Minghao and Seokmin are staring at him, the weight of their desire settling over him like a fog, thick and heavy.

“One of you had better get the lube,” Mingyu announces haughtily before reaching into the sleeping bag and scrabbling at the waistband of Seokmin’s shorts. It’s still freezing, the chill air nudging cold fingers into the space between them like a ghost, but Mingyu barely feels it anymore, too focused on getting Seokmin out of his clothes so he can feel all that warm skin against his own.

“We’re really going to do this here? Now?” Seokmin asks incredulously as Mingyu continues tugging at his shorts until they finally slip down his thighs, low enough for Mingyu to bring one foot up and drag them the rest of the way off. He leaves them shoved at the foot of the sleeping bag instead of trying to fish them out.

“You want to wait until _after_ the big fight?”

“No but, I guess I was hoping for...I don’t know. Something else.”

“He wanted to make love to you, baobei,” Minghao says, smiling a little. Seokmin squawks indignantly but he keeps going. “He wanted to take all your clothes off and fold them because he knows you like things nice and organized. He wanted to kiss every inch of you all soft and sweet--even your ankles, how scandalous--and then he wanted to lay you out on his bed and stuff you full of his cock.” Minghao’s voice is lilting and beautiful, an edge of mocking that Mingyu recognizes even as it makes his head spin with desire. He had to teach Minghao to talk to him like this, convince him that he _likes_ being teased, being called names and told what to do.

Seokmin didn’t teach him that but Mingyu can tell at the way he inhales, sharp as the wind cutting through the trees outside, that he likes it too.

“This isn’t fair,” Seokmin whines as Mingyu starts pushing at his own clothing, suddenly desperate to be touched. “You can read my mind but what do I get?”

“You get to touch him,” Minghao reminds him in a voice gone rough as gravel, and Mingyu almost wants to laugh at the way Seokmin blinks and looks down at where Mingyu is laying naked next to him, a small clothing store now living at the bottom of the sleeping bag.

“Touch me,” Mingyu breathes, just to really drive the point home, and Seokmin cups his cheek with one hand immediately. It shakes a little, steadies when Mingyu turns his head and presses a kiss to the middle of his palm.

“I don’t know where to start,” Seokmin says. Minghao snorts a laugh and Mingyu lets out a garbled whine that he refuses to be embarrassed about because they’re both driving him out of his skin.

“I’ve got an idea,” he says as he grabs at Seokmin’s shoulders and pulls him close, pressing their chests together, their hips, biting out another whine when he feels Seokmin’s dick, hard and hot and _big_ , oh, _fuck_ , sliding against his own. He tangles their legs together too, twisting the roots of his limbs around the warmth of Seokmin’s body until he feels drunk on touch alone.

Seokmin leans into it, lets Mingyu nudge him around the confines of the sleeping bag until he’s exactly where Mingyu wants him. When he’s done, Seokmin kisses him again. It’s just as hot as the first time, except now Mingyu can feel the way Seokmin twitches every time he uses the points of his teeth to nip at his lips, the thick column of his neck.

“Don’t read too much into that,” Seokmin gasps when Mingyu bites down hard at the curve of his shoulder, and Mingyu pulls back, curious.

“Too late,” Minghao says.

“Are you going to tell him everything?” Seokmin despairs, shoving his face into Mingyu’s collarbone. He’s still hard and Mingyu doesn’t have to look down to know that he’s leaking precome between them like a faucet, making everything wet and slick and easy. And, fuck, it’s been so long since he’s gotten to suck dick that he feels his mouth water. He doesn’t think he’d suffocate if he went down on Seokmin in the now stifling heat of the sleeping bag, but he wants Minghao to be able to see it too. He’s only gotten to show off for him using poor imitations of the real thing, and as tempting as Seokmin’s dick is (and it really, _really_ is), Mingyu can hold off for now. For Minghao.

“You like it,” Minghao says, easy and matter-of-fact, “and I’m only telling him what you want me to.”

“Bullshit.”

“Baobei,” Minghao rasps right into Mingyu’s ear, “Seokmin-ah wants you to know how pretty you look right now.”

Mingyu feels himself flush at the simple praise, nails digging harder into the broad stretch of Seokmin’s back to anchor himself as he ruts his hips against Seokmin’s with more purpose.

“I can tell him myself,” Seokmin complains, and then he does, leans down to mouth at Mingyu’s red ear and whisper, “you’re so pretty Mingyu, prettier than I ever dreamed.”

“And he dreamed of you a lot.”

“Yah, can you--”

“Wet dreams, baobei, you made him come in his pants before he ever got to touch you,” Minghao says, resting his chin on his palm as he watches the two of them grind mindlessly against each other. “One time,” he starts, and then his eyebrows raise and his face goes sharp and hungry, “Seokminnie dreamt about fucking you until you couldn’t remember my name.” Mingyu ruts his dick against the softness of Seokmin’s stomach again, kissing the underside of his chin in apology when he huffs a laugh at the thought, but Minghao keeps going. “He dreamt you left me for him, and then he dreamed that _I_ \--”

“Do you ever shut up?” Seokmin gasps finally, one long arm reaching past Mingyu to swat at Minghao’s shoulder. His face is sunset, coral, millennial pink and, oh, Mingyu wants to taste all the colors blossoming on Seokmin’s skin, wants to sink his teeth in and watch more bloom in his wake.

“Not usually, no.”

“I know how you can make him,” Mingyu pipes up, because as entertaining as it is getting a front row seat to Seokmin’s dirty thoughts, he’s hard and sweating and kind of really wants to fucking come. He wants other things first, though, so he does his best to ignore the desire to keep rubbing his dick against Seokmin until he bursts and taps a gentle refrain against the mole on Seokmin’s cheek.

“Yeah?” He leaves his arm draped across Mingyu, ducking his head down to lick into Mingyu’s mouth quick and filthy before he can respond. Mingyu lets him, because it feels too good to cut short, and when Seokmin finally lets him up to breathe--fucking supernatural creatures and their lung capacity, jesus--he twists around until he’s laying on his back, Minghao smiling smugly on his left, Seokmin looking dazed and intense in equal measure on his right.

It’s just like how he imagined it. Better, even, because it seems like the two of them are hitting it off in a way even Mingyu hadn’t expected. Seokmin has always been eager, quick to please and quicker to praise, but he wasn’t sure how it would translate to this, the language of sweat-slick bodies and desperate, clutching hands. He should have known that he would take to it like a dog to water.

“If you kiss him,” Mingyu says, trying to get through it without letting a giggle bubble out of him like champagne foam, “that usually shuts him up.”

Seokmin looks stunned at the idea, like he hadn’t even considered Minghao would be interested.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Minghao murmurs quietly. “If Mingyu wants us to.” He extends the offer like an olive branch.

“Oh. Alright, should I--” Seokmin cuts himself off, fumbling around clumsily. He’s trying to climb over Mingyu without getting out of the sleeping bag but the small clothing store down at the bottom seems to have trapped his legs. There’s a better way to do this, Mingyu thinks. He doesn’t have to care anymore about the perpetual chill of Minghao’s skin now that he has a hot wolf boy ready and willing to warm him up.

“Like this,” Mingyu suggests, unzipping the sleeping bag to their waists and shivering at the sudden rush of cold air, goosebumps rising on his arms and nipples hardening immediately. It reminds him so much of Minghao’s icy touch that his dick pulses where it's pressed against his belly and he’s suddenly, embarrassingly grateful that Minghao can’t read his mind the way he can Seokmin’s.

“Careful, Gyu, you’ll catch a cold,” Minghao chastises immediately, but Mingyu ignores him and pulls at Seokmin until he’s sitting up straight, Mingyu perched smugly in his lap.

“There. Now I get to watch.”

“Sure you won’t feel left out?” Minghao teases as he sidles closer.

“Not if you get on with it,” Mingyu says, grabbing at the hem of Minghao’s sweater and urging it up and off.

“Be nice Mingyu, Seokminnie is nervous.”

Mingyu giggles at the expression on Seokmin’s face, something surprised and a little sheepish, so Mingyu leans down to take his mouth in a rough kiss. When he pulls back, it’s Seokmin who’s out of breath.

“Still nervous?”

“No,” Seokmin says, just as Minghao answers, “Yes.”

“Okay, yes. But I want it, too. I know you can see that.”

It takes Mingyu’s breath away, seeing him trust Minghao so easily. Or, not easily, exactly. It is no easy thing to let someone peer into your thoughts and recite them back to you like so much poetry, but Seokmin bears the weight of it beautifully, the strength evident in his thighs and the sweet, slightly nervous smile he aims at Minghao.

Mingyu knows what’s going to happen barely a second before it does. It’s the look on Minghao’s face, the way his eyes narrow while his face lights up, an airy giggle caught like a frog in the back of his throat. And then he pushes forward into Seokmin’s space, implacable, gravitating towards the closest thing to a sun with it tucked away behind the roiling gray of storm clouds.

He watches as Minghao presses gentle, coaxing kisses to the plush of Seokmin’s mouth like a priest devoutly offering up communion. He holds Seokmin’s jaw firm with one hand while the other tangles in the back of his hair and Seokmin is strong, Mingyu knows that, but like this he looks pinned in place, hands gripping weakly at Minghao’s slender hips as he lets his mouth be wrecked. Not once does he try to pull away.

It’s that, Seokmin sitting there and taking what Minghao gives him instead of pushing for more like Mingyu always does, that stirs the coals in his belly until they roar back to full flame.

He lets them keep at it, Seokmin giving and Minghao taking and both of them completely lost in each other. Mingyu drinks it in, lets himself bring a hand down and pumps at his dick idly, more focused on the way Seokmin whimpers at the brush of Minghao’s hand over the drumbeat pulse at his throat than actively getting off.

It’s Minghao who pulls away first, chest rising and falling steadily in an easy facsimile of human breathing, but his hands are shaking when he lets go of Seokmin. There are inkblot bruises burnished into the thin skin of his jaw that fade away fast as a summer sunrise, and Mingyu can’t help but dart forward just to taste them. Minghao’s chill touch lingers on Seokmin’s skin, familiar and maddening, so Mingyu bites at it until all that remains is the wet warmth of his mouth.

It’s Minghao who breaks the silence, too, a strangled, “Fuck, Seokmin-ah,” spilling from his mouth like red wine.

Mingyu giggles at how dumbstruck they look, then straightens up when they both turn towards him, two planets reentering his orbit. It’s satisfying in a way Mingyu can’t explain that he towers over them both even more like this, Seokmin looking dazed between his splayed thighs and Minghao right there within reach, hands carefully clasped together in his lap.

“I’m feeling a little left out,” he says, hitching forward in Seokmin’s lap until Seokmin grabs at his hips and holds him still. When he glances down he sees the tip of Seokmin’s cock, watches as another bead of precome pulses out of him and adds to the mess on his stomach, and this time he can’t resist bending down to take it into his mouth.

“Ah, hold on.” It’s not Seokmin’s hand that grabs at his hair and forces his head back; even without the telltale chill, Mingyu would recognize Minghao’s hands anywhere. At the same time Seokmin slides one hand up Mingyu’s torso until it’s cupped around the ball of his shoulder. It’s seamless, the way Minghao acts before Seokmin even finishes speaking, the two of them working in tandem to keep Mingyu in place. Arousal rips through him like a bullet, makes a whine scrape out of the tender stretch of his throat.

“Can I suck you off?” Mingyu pants, eyes wide, still focused on the flushed head of Seokmin’s cock. “Please?”

“Begging already baobei?”

“Let me taste you, please,” Mingyu whines, ignoring Minghao entirely. The rough scratch of his voice makes him flush all the way to his ears, but he wants it. And he knows how to get what he wants.

“Are you going to tell him?” Seokmin asks after a few liquid seconds where he stares up at Mingyu, gaze tracing the arched line of his neck before flicking over to Minghao.

“Mmm,” Minghao hums thoughtfully. “I think you’d better handle this one, pup.”

Seokmin groans, hips kicking up against the weight of Mingyu on top of him, hard enough to make him jolt. The iron grip of Minghao’s fingers tangled in his hair don’t budge an inch.

“Tell me what? Please, Seokminnie, hurry up.” He tries to push closer, shove his cock against Seokmin’s for some much needed friction, but before he can do more than twitch forward Minghao’s other hand is closing cooly around the base of his throat.

Mingyu feels pinned, a butterfly in full flight affixed and put up on display. He startles when Minghao leans in close and licks, kitten soft, at the tear he hadn’t realized he shed. He doesn’t stop there, showers kisses across the arch of Mingyu’s cheekbone and the hinge of his jaw, pausing at his mouth to run his tongue along the seam of his lips, leaning away when Mingyu opens up automatically. Mingyu tries to strain forward to follow the smirk of Minghao’s mouth but he’s well and truly held in place, strung out and restrained.

His hands are the only thing not immobile, and his arms are just long enough to brush his fingers against the swell of Seokmin’s pecs. He rubs his thumbs harshly into the dusky brown of his peaked nipples, whines when it makes Seokmin shudder. Paying it forward, he thinks.

“Don’t be nervous,” Minghao murmurs as he sits back further on his heels and looks approvingly at the mess they’ve made of Mingyu. “He’ll love it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Seokmin sighs, “it’s not your dick.”

“What about your dick?”

“It’s weird.”

“I don’t care about that,” Mingyu huffs, because it’s true. Also because he’s already seen Seokmin’s dick, or at least most of it, and it looked nothing but normal--thick and wet and _real_ , and attached to someone Mingyu loves.

“You know I’m a born wolf, not bitten,” Seokmin says.” Mingyu nods, tries to tilt his head to the side but is stopped again by the grip Minghao has on his hair. “I have a knot,” Seokmin finally mumbles out, and Mingyu stops pulling against the hands holding him down. He glances at Minghao, half convinced that they planned this just to fuck with him, but Minghao lifts one shoulder in a shrug and grins wolfishly.

He lets Mingyu go finally, petting at the tangle of his hair fondly as Mingyu leans forward and cups one hand around Seokmin’s jaw, the other dragging none-too-gently down the lines of his torso until he finally wraps it around Seokmin’s dick.

“You’re a fucking dream Seokmin-ah,” Mingyu sighs when he slides his hand all the way down Seokmin’s wet shaft, squeezing the base and not even bothering to fight down the shiver that works its way up his spine at the way it feels noticeably thicker than the rest of him.

Seokmin looks up at him, mouth open, helpless whimpers spilling over the bowl of his lips.

Mingyu can’t believe he gets to have this. He turns to look at Minghao, urges him closer with a pout he knows Minghao can’t resist and then he has them both right there, right under him, pressed against him, their hair mussed and chests bare and Mingyu has always been greedy, always wanted more than he should, but he can’t bring himself to regret it, not when this is the result.

“You want Seokmin to fuck you?” Minghao says, more statement than question, and Mingyu nods rapidly, rubbing his thumb roughly against Seokmin’s slit, eyes glued to the way a drop of pearly white quickly forms and spills over, rolling down the length of him until Mingyu catches it on the tip of his index finger. He extends it out to Minghao like an offering and Minghao accepts it onto his tongue with all the grace of sacrament.

Until a moment later, when his nose scrunches up and his mouth twists in a moue of distaste.

“Sorry,” Minghao says when Seokmin lets out a choked laugh at his expression. Mingyu is still playing with his dick idly, rubbing his palm against the crown and pinching at the soft insides of his thighs. “Natural enemies and all that.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Mingyu interrupts, “but I know what would make him feel better since you hurt his feelings.”

Minghao is laughing as he gets to his feet, body lithe and movements fluid even in the chill air, even though Mingyu can see the press of his dick against the front of his jeans.

“Oh?”

“Fucking me.”

“That just might do the trick,” Minghao agrees with a grin and, fucking finally, tosses Mingyu the lube he insisted they bring. He’s not psychic, not like Seungkwan is, but he had a good feeling about tonight. Not even Jeonghan’s pointed comment as they left the house could make him regret it.

“Don’t distract me,” Mingyu tells them both, as firmly as he can manage while pushing two slicked up fingers inside, legs shaking as the burn sets in. He has to grab Seokmin’s shoulder for balance, the angle not quite right.

“Is talking allowed?” Minghao asks from where he’s settled back at Seokmin’s side.

“Sure,” he grits out, pulling his fingers out slowly, then back in with a wet noise he knows they both can hear.

“You should tell him what you’re thinking then Seokmin,” Minghao says, and Mingyu narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“Tell me.”

“Ah, why,” Seokmin yelps, hands tightening at Mingyu’s waist.

“Then you tell me.” Mingyu turns to Minghao, pausing to cover his fingers in more lube before pushing them back in, arching his back and wiggling his chest enticingly in Minghao’s eyeline. Minghao doesn’t do anything more than raise a knowing eyebrow, but it still makes Mingyu want to hurry things along before anyone comes to their senses and realizes this is probably a terrible idea.

“Minghao,” Seokmin whines, just as Mingyu eases a third finger past the tight ring of muscle and loses his breath to the still frigid air around them.

Mingyu doesn’t even realize what Seokmin’s said until Minghao reaches up and gently clasps one wide palm over the thick column of Seokmin’s throat. He leans in to mouth at the thin skin under the line of his jaw. Mingyu wants to know how it tastes. “Say it again,” Minghao demands, and Seokmin does, breath trembling out of his lungs as he sighs out, “Minghao, please.”

“Hao, be nice,” Mingyu grunts, trying to wedge his fingers in just a little deeper. The angle is all wrong and his fingers aren’t long enough for the kind of stimulation he really craves, but that’s not the point of this anyway. He just has to make sure he’s stretched enough to take Seokmin’s cock.

His knot, too, if Mingyu can get away with it.

“He doesn’t want me to be,” Minghao says, smug, and Seokmin’s hands tighten again around the line of Mingyu’s waist, hard enough to bruise. “He’s worried he’ll bruise you.”

“Well he should stop worrying about that because he already has,” Mingyu breathes, and fumbles around in the pocket of the sleeping bag for the condom he brings with him everywhere, just in case. Mingyu rips it open with the ease of practice and pinches the tip, sliding it easily down until it sits snug right above his balls and then he grabs the lube again, squeezing some into his palm and immediately stroking down, then all the way back up Seokmin’s length until he’s slick and hard. Mingyu squeezes his slippery hand down to the base of Seokmin’s dick one more time, the firmness from before more obvious now. It makes his knees a little weak, just imagining it inside him.

“Sorry sorry.” Seokmin makes as if to take his hands off Mingyu but before he can Minghao moves, sliding into the space behind Seokmin’s back and the wall of the tent. Seokmin hisses at the freezing touch, grumbling a little as Minghao settles in behind him, chest pressed fully to the width of Seokmin’s back. The wind is still howling outside, loud enough to drown out everything but Mingyu’s harsh breathing, his desperate words. Minghao takes his hands and places them over Seokmin’s, the chill from his skin just barely brushing the bare skin of Mingyu’s waist.

“He likes it,” Minghao assures him, taking his hands away as soon as Seokmin tightens his grip again. Mingyu wants them both to hold him down, he wants bruises in the shape of their hands to litter his body like works of art, tattoos that lay claim to him, that say _mine_ that say _ours_ that say _you can’t have him because he’s ours and ours alone and if you try to touch him we will destroy you_.

“I love it,” Mingyu agrees, because he does. The edge of pain, the evidence of being wanted left on his skin for days to come. But Minghao doesn’t indulge Mingyu often, barely touching him at all after a few heated minutes of kissing, convinced that he’s going to lose control. And he always feels guilty, afterwards, even though he knows what it does to Mingyu. When he looks at Seokmin, fingers still digging firmly into Mingyu’s warm skin, he sees nothing in his eyes but heat.

“You’re so...fuck, Mingyu,” Seokmin sighs out as Mingyu shuffles closer on his knees, until he can kiss Seokmin’s smiling mouth and hover over the jut of his cock.

Minghao keeps talking while they kiss, gentle at first but then increasingly sloppy and desperate as Minghao says, “He can barely think straight baobei, he’s been wanting this for so long, getting to stuff you full of his cock and knot you, hold you down until you beg for more…”

He trails off and Mingyu is buzzing, so overwhelmed from Minghao’s words, Seokmin’s thoughts, the way Seokmin’s teeth keep nipping at his bottom lip until it’s even more swollen and sensitive, that he almost doesn’t notice when Minghao growls, animalistic and deep.

“Sorry, sorry sorry,” Seokmin gasps as he pulls away from Mingyu’s mouth, and Mingyu can’t help the way he whines, needy.

“You can fuck him, Seokmin-ah, you can knot him, but only because I’m okay with it. And _only_ because I’m here with him,” Minghao growls, bending down to place his blunt teeth to the stretch of Seokmin’s neck, a threat and a caress in one. It shouldn’t be hot that they’re arguing over him before he even gets fucked, but it is. Mingyu knows he loves being wanted, maybe too much for his own good, but it’s satisfying in a way that pulses through his whole body, watching as Seokmin’s lips pull back in a silent snarl at the pressure of Minghao’s teeth, two sets of eyes still trained on him as he arches his back and lets the length of Seokmin’s dick slide between his cheeks, the flared head of his cock just barely slipping inside.

Mingyu feels like a frayed wire, raw and sparking with electricity as he watches Seokmin and Minghao blink in unison, their faces going sharp and focused as he lets gravity take over and he sinks down until Seokmin is almost fully inside him, the stretch of his knot wide enough now that Mingyu knows he’ll have to work at getting it in.

“Stop fighting and let me ride Seokminnie,” he says finally, after a few seconds of nothing but his own heavy breathing. “It’s hot that you’re jealous jagiya but we can play with that next ti--”

His words leave him in a huff of breath that corkscrews into a moan as Seokmin seems to come to his senses, jerking his hips up until he’s buried so deep Mingyu can practically feel it in the back of his throat.

“Fuck, hold him down for me Hao, please.”

It’s unbearably satisfying, how quickly Minghao does as he asks, pale fingers splayed out wide and unyielding around the top of Seokmin’s thighs, forcing his hips still so Mingyu can go at his own pace, revel in the feeling of a big dick splitting him open. He knows he won’t be able to do this for long, thighs burning already at the pace he’s set for himself, but it’s worth it to have Minghao and Seokmin both looking up at him, twin expressions of dazed disbelief and hunger painting their faces with need.

“Mingyu,” Seokmin says, a teasing lilt to his voice that Mingyu knows is meant to instigate, “you would fuck me even if Minghao wasn’t here, wouldn’t you?”

He rolls his eyes as Minghao growls again. He doesn’t have the patience to soothe Minghao’s ego right now so he doesn’t even try, just shakes his head and uses the broad stretch of Seokmin’s shoulders for balance, leaning close enough that the tip of Seokmin’s nose brushes against the warm skin of his chest.

Mingyu moans when Seokmin cranes forward just far enough to close his lips around one of his nipples, hard and at this point almost aching from the cold, suddenly surrounded by the warm heat of Seokmin’s mouth.

“I can’t believe that finally worked,” Mingyu breathes gleefully, letting his head loll back on his shoulders as he works his hips down and up and down again. He lets one hand drift back, slicking his fingers with some of the lube dripping down his thighs. He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he pushes a finger past the resistance of his rim until it’s nestled fully next to Seokmin’s cock. It burns, but it’s exactly what he wants.

He loses a little time like that, rocking in Seokmin’s lap as Minghao watches him with eyes gone dark and hooded and Seokmin drags his tongue and teeth and lips across the expanse of Mingyu’s chest. Minghao’s hands remain like shackles around Seokmin’s thighs, the muscle laid thick on his frame straining up against Minghao’s slender fingers and making Mingyu think about how they would feel wrapped around his waist as he pounded into the welcoming heat of Seokmin’s body.

After a few languid minutes Seokmin’s hips twitch so hard that he raises Minghao’s hands and Mingyu’s body a few inches into the air, punching the rhythm out of him as he mewls at the unexpected fullness.

“F-fuck, okay,” he says as he extracts the two fingers he’d managed to shove in next to Seokmin’s length, “you can, ah, take over now Seokmin-ah. Knot me like a good boy, yeah?”

It’s like Mingyu flips a switch, or maybe like a dam that was slowing splitting apart and Mingyu just hadn’t noticed, because Seokmin moves immediately, eagerly, broad palms spanning Mingyu’s pecs as he brings his knees up, forcing Mingyu into the cradle of his hips and his cock even deeper into Mingyu. He leverages against the wall of Minghao’s unmoving chest to nudge the thickness at the base of his cock past Mingyu’s stretched rim until he’s fully inside and Mingyu howls at the feeling, tears leaking helplessly down his cheeks as he shakes and shivers, satisfied in a way he hasn’t felt in so long but still desperate to have Minghao like this as well.

Mingyu’s chest heaves for breath as Seokmin sets a rhythm, slow just like Mingyu’s, thrusting in deep and grinding his hips in little circles until his knot catches and pushes in again, and again, and again, until Mingyu feels as open as he ever has, barely able to clench anymore as Seokmin takes him apart.

Fuck, he wants them both.

“What’s he thinking, Hao? Tell me,” he whines. Minghao is watching him like always, but Mingyu needs more.

“He thinks you’re beautiful. He wants to be good.” Minghao sounds hoarse. “He wants to be a good boy and knot you, give you what you want.”

Seokmin closes his eyes, cheeks and ears pinkening adorably as he buries his face in Mingyu’s collarbone. His thrusts have started to fracture, no longer the smooth motion from before.

“I wish I could hear him,” Mingyu sighs unthinkingly.

“I wish I could hear you,” Minghao confesses, almost too quiet for Mingyu to hear. He blinks, leans forward, hooks his head over Seokmin’s shoulder so he can lick the words out of Minghao’s mouth, bittersweet.

“Am I not loud enough?” he groans, half deliriously, as Seokmin pistons his hips up into the clutch of Mingyu’s body. Whatever rhythm Seokmin had earlier has now devolved into short, frantic thrusts that jackhammer right into Mingyu’s prostate. His thighs are shaking badly, barely enough strength in them to keep himself from slumping entirely into Seokmin’s lap, until Minghao’s hands burn icy brands into either side of his waist as he lifts Mingyu a few more inches into the air, just enough that Seokmin can move his grip to the meat of Mingyu’s thighs, prying them further apart until there’s nothing stopping him from carefully sliding out so just the tip of his cock remains, holding Mingyu open around it.

“I wish I could touch you too,” Minghao continues as he lets his hands fall away, words harsher this time, as Seokmin snaps his hips up just as he pulls Mingyu down, seating himself so deep that the thick knot at the base of his cock slips inside again, stretching Mingyu open around it and making spots dance at the edges of his vision. He gasps, legs giving out all the way as he slumps forward into Seokmin’s broad, impossibly warm chest.

“I want you to touch me,” Mingyu slurs as he lets Seokmin move his body like -- well, like a ragdoll. He doesn’t have the strength to stay up on his own anymore, not now that he feels like he’s been split down the middle, cracked open and then stuffed full of Seokmin’s cock.

“That’s a bad idea.”

“He doesn’t care,” Seokmin grunts, just as Mingyu whines out a desperate, “I _don’t care_ , fuck, just put your hands on me.”

“I can’t,” Minghao says, firm but regretful, and Mingyu chokes out a sob. It almost hurts, the way he’s stretched open, the way he still wants more. Always more.

Mingyu wails, more animal snarl than words, and drags his nails down the line of Seokmin’s back, urging him deeper. “Fine, just listen then. Harder,” he directs towards Seokmin, and Seokmin does as he’s told, slamming their hips together with a lewd sound and enough force to make Mingyu’s dick slap against the softness of his stomach.

Minghao makes a sound, a cry half-swallowed, and Mingyu barely has the strength to tilt his head back enough to see. It’s worth it, when he does, because Minghao looks as far gone as Mingyu’s ever seen him, mouth wet and open as his hips twitch up against the small of Seokmin’s back. It takes a moment longer for Mingyu to realize that his hips are moving in time with Seokmin’s, that his hands are clenching on Seokmin’s waist just as Seokmin’s squeeze around Mingyu’s hips, and it takes another deep, grinding thrust for him to realize why he’s doing it.

“Can you feel me?” he gasps out, leaning forward until he’s draped across Seokmin’s firm chest, until he can reach out a hand and clutch desperately at Minghao’s silky hair. His eyes are wide and glazed over until Mingyu yanks roughly and then he shudders, focusing so immediately on Mingyu that he feels his body pulse with heat. He loves it when Minghao looks at him, the weight of his gaze always so heavy, laden with all the things they want to do to each other, all the things they can’t.

All the things they couldn’t.

“You’re so tight, baobei, I can tell” Minghao rasps. “You feel so good.”

“Mingyu, oh, fuck, Gyu I’m close,” Seokmin moans and presses in close again, the knot at the base of his dick slipping inside as he hitches his hips deeper and holds himself there. “Can I?”

“What?” Mingyu feels like a thread caught on a nail, held back by the iron grip of Minghao’s glazed eyes, the realization that maybe they can’t have everything but with Seokmin, they can have this.

“Can we knot you?” Minghao asks, voice gone dark and sweet, molasses dripping from his mouth.

“You had fucking better,” he says, trying for haughty and absolutely landing closer to desperate, but it doesn’t matter, not when they listen so well.

He feels it when Seokmin comes inside him even through the barrier of the condom, but he can barely pay attention to anything other than the fullness, the final swell of Seokmin’s knot as he locks himself inside Mingyu.

Seokmin whines, high-pitched and pitiful as Minghao’s hands grip too-tight at his waist. Mingyu watches as Minghao’s fingers flex away from Seokmin’s skin, deep bruises in the shape of his hands fading quickly, a sunset in purples and greens and yellows.

He sighs, settles more comfortably astride Seokmin’s lap, and reaches a hand down to finally finish himself off. The weight of it all, the lines blurred and crossed, the rules broken, his body used as both canvas and common ground, it all starts to sink in and it doesn’t take much until he’s crying out, coming in hot spurts over his own chest, clenching helplessly around Seokmin’s knot and whining all the way through it.

“How long does this thing last?” Mingyu finally slurs, blinking his eyes open some indeterminate amount of time later. He’s sprawled across Seokmin’s chest, the sleeping bag pulled up to his shoulders. The air around them is cold but cradled between Seokmin’s skin and the sleeping bag all he feels is warm.

“What thing?”

“Your fucking -- dick. Your knot. How long?” Mingyu feels barely coherent. Minghao snorts a laugh at his clumsy words so he probably sounds it, too.

“Not long, don’t worry,” Seokmin soothes, palms gliding down Mingyu’s sides to rest on the curve of his ass. He squeezes lightly and Mingyu shivers and --

There’s a crack like two boulders impacting, loud and echoing, that makes Mingyu and Seokmin yelp in unison.

Minghao smirks as he lowers his hands back to his lap, sitting just far enough away from their little pallet on the ground that Seokmin can’t quite reach him. Mingyu huffs a laugh and lets himself relax.

“Seokmin, please. Stop thinking about it.”

“Sorry,” Seokmin grins, unrepentant and obvious. Minghao presses his lips into an unamused line but even dazed from orgasm and half-asleep Mingyu can see that he’s trying not to smile.

“Don’t let me sleep through the big fight,” he mumbles as the cocoon of warmth he’s surrounded by drops him quickly from drowsy to nodding off every few seconds. Seokmin and Minghao both hum noncommittally but Mingyu is too tired now to slap at them. As irritating as it is that they think he doesn’t know what’s good for him, it makes him ache with hope that they at least seem to agree on some things.

It’s not perfect. It was never going to be. But Mingyu’s never been good at denying himself the things he wants, and he wants them both enough to work for it.

And if that involves getting fucked to delirium while his vampire boyfriend reads his werewolf boyfriend’s mind aloud to him, well.

Mingyu has always believed in the power of hard work.

🧛🐺

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are so appreciated! 💗
> 
> (also yes i did rip some of the dialogue at the beginning directly from the book pls don't snitch)
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/scissorghost) | [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/scissorghost)


End file.
